Yes, this is going to be about breastfeeding. No, I don’t care that you’re reading it. Two administrators and probably all of the people who sit within a five seat radius of me at church have seen them– it really isn’t a thing.
I knew when we were expecting Alex that nursing would be hard. I wasn’t prepared for it to end (or for the feeling of wanting it to end) with Landon. This time around, I told myself, if we can just make it six weeks.. two months.. three months.. and promised myself I would be okay with it whenever it ended. And now here we are, and it’s ending.
And I’m glad to be done wearing nursing bras. And I’m glad to be done pumping on the floor of a storage closet at work. And I’m glad to be done scheduling the rest of my life around being someone’s mobile buffet/human pacifier.
And I’m sad that it’s over. These days of snuggling and being needed are numbered and I know it. In case anyone is wondering, Daddy is Landon’s best friend, “not you, Mom.” Though it’s a body heavy with exhaustion that I drag to Alex’s room to nurse him in the middle of the night, I’m so grateful to have something to give that no one else can.
It’s hard because it’s the very first part of letting go. So much of raising babies is the letting go– and I’m not saying that sagely like I’ve done this a thousand times. Landon is only three, and I know it already. My days of being the center of his universe are passing so quickly. Soon he’ll insist on doing everything “by myself, okay, Mom?!” and Daddy will be the cool guy who teaches him about video games and baseball and all the other man stuff I will never understand.
But I will always be Mom, the kisser of boo-boos. The one they want most when they’re sick. The one who bakes the cookies and lets them lick the beaters, but not too much or you’ll ruin your dinner.
No, I’m not ready to let go of this part, and I’m sure that’s how I’ll feel every time. We’re never really ever ready, we just do. We let go. And we hold on tight until we have to let go of the next thing. And in His infinite wisdom, God made Nutella for exactly these moments.
(And every day, really.)
We made it four months, kiddo. And now we’re letting go.